So, despite what Tyler may say, I do not - repeat, do NOT - have a crush on Vicky. Or Tori, as I like to call her. But only in my head.

I’m working up to it, see? At the moment she lets only me call her Vicky. So she’d freak if I ever pulled ‘Tori’ on her.

The way she always smiles when she sees me, the way she was holding me as I was drifting off to sleep...

Oh, who am I kidding?

I, Teddy Lupin, am madly in love with Victoire Weasley.

____________________________________________________________________

I hoped my hair hadn’t turned pink when she’d undressed. It had a tendency to do that when I was embarrassed. You know, instead of blushing. Like normal people. But wow... she was hot. H -O - T hot. With capitals.

I raised myself up a tiny bit, to see whether she was asleep, and locked eyes with a smirking Flynn Allen.

Fantastic.

There was no way that this wouldn’t be common knowledge by the time breakfast was served tomorrow.

“Flynn, it’s honestly not what it looks like.”

“Gee, Lupin. I didn’t expect this, even from you!”

“Tell who you like. You’ll get kicked off the Quidditch team, and everyone will know you that you watch people sleeping.”

“Wow. Turning into quite the little Slytherin, aren’t you? Maybe you should hide in your dungeon, you snake.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a Slytherin.”

He laughed manically, and climbed into his own bed. I had a good mind to smother him with a pillow. It would be kind for the rest of the world. Then nobody would have to put up with his fucking idiotic ways.

Then Tori turned over and murmured something about Seth, and an old oak.

Funny girl.

Seth was going to end up in the Hospital Wing next time I saw him.

Curse him. Curse everyone who thought Slytherins were evil.

And why was Tori complaining about having no friends in Slytherin? She was practically worshipped by them.

I suppose it was because she was hard to reach. Not that she was cold, it was the fact that she rarely trusted, and when it was broken... she retreated into her shell a little more. Fucking Seth. Hurting my Victoire.

And with that lovely thought of depressing and dismal stuff, I drifted off to sleep.

I shook my head, and caught site of a piece of parchment lying on my bedside table.

Dear Teddy,

I’m sorry for leaving so early, but I didn’t want anyone seeing us like that. You know, in bed together. Especially that Flynn Allen guy you’re always complaining about. He sounds like a real arsehole. Oh, and you’d probably get kicked off the Gryffindor Quidditch team for consorting with the enemy.

“W-w-well, I may have um...t-told your Quidditch Captain. And p-p-possibly a lo-load of other pe-people.

“You’re. Dead. Meat.” I picked him up. Pipsqueak weighed practically nothing. I slammed him into a wall, and was suddenly all too aware of eyes piercing holes into my back.

“Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.” Came the resounding echo of the school ground battle cry.

Including – rather unfortunately – the one belonging to Professor McGonagall.

“Detention, Lupin!” she spluttered, finally breaking through the horde of students surrounding the spectacle that I’d created.

Oops.

“You too, Allen. You can work out your differences whilst cleaning trophies!”

And she spun around in a flourish, never mind that she must have been going on about 300, by the look of her.

Fantastic.

Quality time with Gossip Girl Allen.

___________________________________________________________________

Potions.

What a load of dragon crap.

I mean, okay, a lot of them are beneficial and stuff, but hell, who wants to sit in a fucking dungeon, filled with fucking smoke from all of the fucking disaster cauldrons, and sweat like a fucking pig for fucking hours, and then probably – although you tried your hardest – only get an ‘Acceptable’.

Actually, I’m not sure pigs can sweat. So, delete that part.

But you get the picture.

It’s hot, and dirty, and humid, and all the fires going...

I tell you, sometimes in summer I just yell that I have to hurl and run just to get out of it.

I think they’re catching onto my deviousness, though. It’s really not as convincing when about seven kids run out during the lesson, every single lesson. Or when the teacher thinks it’s funny to spike everyone’s drink with Veritaserum. And you run out screaming, ‘I don’t really need to hurl, but I can’t stand this classroom!”

Seriously.

Don’t try it.

The only person I know, who can actually last the whole lesson without either a), catching on fire, b), creating some sort of disaster, c), not be awesome at Potions or d), not look perfect whilst doing so, is Tori.

She seemed to – shudder – enjoy it. And ol’ Sluggy simply adored her.

So, obviously, she was my Potion’s partner. It worked for me. I got to watch her at work – she concentrated so much she didn’t notice me staring – whilst writing down notes. My hand-writing was the neatest, anyway.

We were crafty. Every time Sluggy came around, we swapped places, so he didn’t suspect a thing. Plus, I’m great at memorising notes, but not so much the whole ‘actually doing it’ stuff, so it’s pretty good when exams come around. I know what to do if I’ve read over it, and written it down about fifty times beforehand.

However, when Tori came in looking miserable, I didn’t even care that Slughorn was giving me looks. I completely ignored the set of instructions on the board. Who need instructions, anyway? I could just pop it all in randomly and nobody would ever know the difference.

“Vicky,” I whispered, “did you hear?”

She gave me the look. The one with the ‘of course I did, you idiot, that’s why I’m upset’ written all over it.

“I’m going to kill Allen.”

“I heard about that,” she managed a smile. “Good job. Couldn’t you have included Seth in that too, though?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Allen was watching us sleep. I woke up and saw him staring. It was pretty creepy.”

“You two! Get some work done!” Sluggy wasn’t in the best mood today, I supposed. Not enough crystallized pineapples, or whatever type of pineapple he liked.

I pulled on protective goggles. This was about to get messy.

After an hour and a half of complete failure – because Tori had been to upset to concentrate on such mundane things such as how many caterpillar legs to mush up – we left the room.

“Slut,” hissed a fat Slytherin chick to Tori. How could anyone be fat in Hogwarts, anyhow? I didn’t think it was possible, with all the stairs, and Peeves to dodge.

“Bitch!” I yelled at her, down the corridor, hugging Victoire to my side. “Don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous of you, snatching up the perfect man!”

A tear rolled down her face, but she smiled. “Of course they are.”

How I wished I was her perfect man.

___________________________________________________________________

Care of Magical Creatures was alright. Tori had refused to continue with the subject, but I loved it. Magical animals? I mean, who doesn’t love animals, right? And magic? So magical animals should be the best thing out there!

Plus, there were my deep and thoughtful chats with Hagrid.

Tyler walked up to me. “Is it true?”

“That I had sex with Victoire?”

“Yes. That.”

“No! She got locked out of the Serpent’s Lair, so she came up and slept in the Gryffindor Tower.”

“Oh. Well, it’ll blow over.”

“Sure it will.” Sarcasm, a man’s best friend.

“Well, maybe.”

Suddenly, a wild hot chick appeared.

“Gotta go, man,” Tyler winked at me.

“How you doing?” I heard him say, and shook my head.

Dude, Friends is a great show, but you just ruined it.

“Did not!” he yelled at me, to the confusion of the hot chick. Dana, was she called? Diana? Dawn?

Meh, couldn’t remember. Hufflepuff

But what was with the whole mind-reading thing, anyway? I knew I hadn’t spoken out loud.

__________________________________________________________________

I couldn’t find Tori. Anywhere. I was worried.

My hair was probably green. Or white. Or blue. Or any other colour that wasn’t natural. I couldn’t be bothered to find a mirror. Besides, the most likely colour was white. I was worried, after all.

You’d think I, as a Metamorphagus, would keep one on me at all times, but nope. I always forgot to buy one.

Okay, so here’s a rough guide to the colour of my hair.

Pink equals embarrassed, or is the equivalent of me blushing.

White equals worried.

Green equals anything from happy to jealous, which is weird.

Blue equals cold, or upset.

Red equals angry, or all lovey-dovey.

Black equals super-duper angry.

So, yeah. Probably white at the moment.

I focussed, and changed it to my neutral colour; purple. I was heading down to the Slytherin Common Room, when I ran into a fuming Professor McGonagall.

Shit.

“Mr Lupin, I suggest, unless you wish to have your Hogsmeade privileges omitted, I suggest you make your way to your detention immediately.”

Oops.

Forgot that.

__________________________________________________________________

I worked in silence, with Allen goading me with insults. I was hoping he’d get bored, and actually do something himself, but at the moment he was just being annoying and gathering dust.

“Look at yourself, Lupin. What have you become? A slimy traitor with no house pride, that’s what.”

Shut up, idiot.

“I mean, a Slytherin? Admittedly, she’s hot, but still. You hang out with her as much as that bitch, Tyler. Actually, I might fuck her myself.”

“You’re delusional,” I snorted, “Victoire would never go for someone like you.”

“Ah, you talk. I thought you were too stupid. Well, you see, Lupin, she wouldn’t have much of a choice.”

I stood up, wand out at his throat.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I spat.

“I wouldn’t call it rape, but the wonderful thing with alcohol is that she wouldn’t know what she was doing.”

“I will push you off the Astronomy Tower. Don’t you dare touch her.”

He smirked, and sat there, like a fucking prince.

“The fact that you’re threatening me – oh, how like a Slytherin – and your hair is black, well, it doesn’t really make me feel scared. You don’t have any control over me.”

I punched him. Fucking loser.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, McGonagall walked in.

“Lupin! My office!”

__________________________________________________________________

“It wasn’t my fault! He was saying... stuff.”

“Even so, Lupin, I expected better of you.”

“I was ignoring him, but it just didn’t work!”

“That’s not what it looked like to me.”

Ugh. I swear McGonagall hated me. She was out for revenge ever since I accidentally – accidentally – made her grow a moustache.

Back in third year. I was a kid! I didn’t know what I was doing!

And Allen, the goody-goody. But he deserved that moustache.

“Look, Lupin. Here’s how things are. You’ve assaulted Allen twice now – that I know of – and you’re going to have to deal with the consequences. Detention until the end of term, twice a week. You’re also on probation from the Quidditch team,” she added.

“No! Please! You can’t do that!”

“I think you’ll find, Mr Lupin, that I can. If you acted your age, maybe I wouldn’t have to.”

I left her office, and my hair was probably dark blue.

_________________________________________________________________

I crouched down on the bank of the Black Lake, throwing rocks into it. Pointlessly. I was too depressed to do much else. I wasn’t crying – no, I was way too manly – but my eyes were completely black, and my hair was shifting from dark blue to black.

I was going to die. On probation? What was that supposed to mean? That unless I was good I’d be kicked off the damn team, that’s what. And I knew my level of self control with these things. Allen should have been counting his lucky stars that McGonagall had brought Quidditch into this. I didn’t give a fuck about how many detentions I got, but Quidditch... that was different.

“Is it true? Did you really get kicked off the team?” Tyler had found me.

Gruh-ate.

“Nah. I’m on probation. If I bash up Allen again, I will be.” I shook my head.